


Hold On Loosely (But Don't Let Go)

by orbitaldiamonds



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Autistic Spencer Reid, BDSM, Co-workers, Demisexual Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Original Autistic Character, Original Non-Binary Character - Freeform, Other, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbitaldiamonds/pseuds/orbitaldiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mina Abbot is a lonely records clerk at the Titusville Police Department when her town becomes a dumping ground for a serial killer. Takes place around the beginning of season 7.</p><p>(Story begins with a case and middles with feels and slow-burn Spencer/ONBC. This story is a daydream in progress so no end in sight. Will attempt to update once a week.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unbeta'd first draft of a daydream. Nearly all of my fanfics have me creating an avatar, walking onto the holodeck and inserting myself into the story. It's almost the Character x Reader trope. I'm going to daydream this no matter what, and I haven't written out a story in awhile, but it felt like I had to write out this chapter so I could go on to micromanaging the next act. Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome.

     Mina had never met an FBI agent. Well, until today. As far as she knew, anyway. And she had the perfect excuse to see them, she mused as she shifted the dozen manilla folders to her left arm so she could open the door to the conference room the federal agents had commandeered.

     “Thanks, crazycakes,” said Sergeant Garrett, somehow managing to breeze past swiftly despite being nearly half as wide as he was tall.

     “Ah, Sgt. Garrett,” she deadpanned. “You just bring joy whenever you go.”

     “You mean _wherever_ I go, right?” the detective replied. Mina could never quite tell if the guy was messing with her or just that dense.

     Two of the agents at the conference table had looked up from their work to follow this exchange. Mina looked at them and nodded at Garrett with a look that clearly stated, _can you believe this joker?_ The pretty blonde woman and the nerdy young guy smirked conspiratorially.

     “What’re you doin’ up here anyway, doll? I thought you were allergic to natural light.”

     “Well, Walmart was out of ipecac and I remembered I could stop by Investigations and look at your face for free.”

     “Ipe-what? Is that kind of aphrodisiac?” He was playing dumb. He had to be.

     She hoped. _He brings in the bad guys. Does Titusville just have really stupid bad guys?_

     “Dude,” she said, taking a step back and holding her hand palm-up, “your kink is not my kink and that’s okay.”

     More than one of the visiting agents were stifling laughter at that point, but not the classically handsome brown-haired man in the plain black-with-black-tie Fed Suit. He just looked at her with exasperation and asked, “Are those for us?”

     “Yes indeedy,” she replied, pasting on a smile. “I’ve got gory crime scene photos, newspaper articles, interviews with suspects, victims and witnesses, and oh look, more gory crime scene photo!”

     She moved forward to hand the folders to the man she’d mentally dubbed ‘Agent Fed Fedley Feddington from Fedville, Feddsylvania,’ looking at the bulletin boards. _This is the opposite of a creepy serial killer wall_ , she thought idly. _It’s a catch-a-serial-kil--_

     Mina’s thought stopped. Her mind and body went numb, and her folders fell from her slack hands. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the lifeless, naked, and heavily bruised body of her best friend in the world (and her only friend in town).

     She didn’t notice that two of the agents had gone around the conference table to pick up the now-disorganized files until one of them, a suave-looking man with a really close buzz-cut, brushed against the back of her leg.

     “Oh!” she said, jolted out of her daze. She looked down at the mess of photos and clippings and printouts and hastily knelt down to gather the rest. “I’m so sorry, it’s just--I know her...I _know_ her...knew her.”

     “We all did,” said Garrett, not unkindly. “She was a cashier at Walgreens,” he explained to the feds.

     “She was my friend,” Mina said dully. “She was my best friend.”

     “What’s your name?” asked the skinny nerd? ( _Tiptoe_ , she thought about him, _and Strut for Agent Suave_.)

     “Mina Abbot.”

     “There’s no mention of a Mina Abbot in interviews with her family.”

     “You remembered that off the top of your head? That’s impressive.”

     “I have an eidetic memory,” Tiptoe replied, neither bragging nor humble-bragging.

     “Very cool.”

     “If you say so. Most people find it anno--”

     “How long had you known her?” asked Strut. By this time the files had been put back in their respective folders and Mina had joined the agents at the conference table. Garrett frowned at her for taking the last open chair but went to discuss whatever he’d come in for in the first place with a handsome salt-and-pepper man in an expensive looking suit ( _first button open, no tie, goatee. Sharp Dressed Man_ ) and ignored her.

     “My family moved here from Alabama when I was ten. Alicia was one of the few people who didn’t make fun of my accent. And z-she read a lot, like I did. Do. I asked her what her favorite book was and she said she couldn’t pick just one and we’ve been friends ever since.” She paused. “We were.”

     “Take your time,” said Strut gently.

     Mina took her glasses off and put her head in her hands. “Who would even want to kill her? She got along with everybody she met, event he assholes. Her nickname was _Bubbles_ , for crying out loud!”

     “What about in more recent years?” asked a striking woman with dark hair and sad brown eyes. “You were best friends but no one saw you hanging out together?”

     “Titusville is boring as hell. Mostly stayed at our separate places hanging out online not just with each other but online friends in various parts of the world, and sometimes we’d go to Merritt Island or Orlando.”

     “Orlando and Merritt Island are in opposite directions from here,” Agent Tiptoe pointed out.

     “They’re about equidistant from here. And we rarely went to both in the same day anyhow.”

     “And what did you do?”

     “Shopping, mostly,” Mina replied. She looked over at Garrett, then back to...she’d figure something appropriately badass later. “Sometimes we’d go to parties or events like Comic Con.”

     “Can you think of anyone, anybody at all, who might want to hurt Alicia?” asked the dark-haired lady.

     _Yeah, half the sadists at Florida Power Exchange_ , Mina thought. _Shit, I might have to spill the beans on myself! Those bruises must have come from the caning zie submitted to at the last play party. There were bruises and welts on most of the bodies in the pictures I brought. All? Can’t remember. Damn!_

     Leaning forward towards the agent and speaking as quietly as possible, Mina said, “I think I have information that could help in your investigation,” but it’d mean revealing things about myself that I’m not comfortable discussing where my co-workers might hear. Especially since two of the officers on this case are my aunt and cousin.”

     “I can understand that,” she said. “Have you had lunch yet?”

     “No. I don’t go to lunch for...another twenty-one minutes,” she said, checking her phone.

     “Would you mind spending your lunch discussing this?” Agent Morgan can take your statement and it’ll look like you’re just socializing.”

     “Which one is--” Agent Strut gave a little wave. She addressed him: “You’re laughably out of my league.” Then to Agent Tiptoe: “So are you, but you’re a nerd who presents as a nerd. I am well known by my co-workers for being a total dork.”

     “Well, whaddaya know?” interrupted Agent Morgan. “Dr. Reid here is also well known by his co-workers for being a total dork. Also, nice save.”

     “I was being sincere,” Mina said, a little peeved. Changing the subject, she added, “y’all have been very considerate. I’m gonna use my last ten minutes before lunch and bring you some good coffee from the Records room.”

     “Why does the Records room have better coffee than other parts of the building?” asked Agent Tiptoe--Dr. Reid.

     “Each department has its own coffee fund. In Records we decided that paying fifty cents per cup instead of twenty five was worth it in order to get organic, low-acid coffee and need fewer Rolaids.”

     “I’ll help you carry them, and you can ask me out to lunch on the way.” He looked happily devious.

     Mina raised her eyebrows, wishing she could raise just one. So that’s how it is. “All right,” she said, rising, “but I get to choose the venue.”

     “Fair enough. Do you like Star Wars?”

     “I’m more of a Trekkie…”

*****

     The ladies in Records _loved_ Dr. Reid. Not only did the ladies wave him off when he had taken out his wallet to pay for his team’s coffee (something Mina had intended to be her treat), but Mirela also insisted he take one of the muffins she’d brought that morning because “you poor thing, you’re skin and bones!” And they’d all “awww”’ed when Mina asked him to have lunch with her and he honest-to-goodness _blushed_ as he accepted.

     Once Mina and Dr. Reid had brought the coffee back (and Agent Morgan had ribbed him good-naturedly about the muffin), Mina clocked out and drove them to the bowling alley.

     On the way, Mina asked, “Does that happen a lot? Strange women trying to fatten you up?”

     “Fairly often.”

     “Does it bother you?”

     “Why would it? It means I get free baked goods. And it’s almost always baked goods.”

     “Neato. I get just the opposite.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “I’m pudgy and female-presenting, and short to boot, so if I order dessert at a restaurant I tend to get judgmental looks from skinny women at other tables. I always bring a book so it’s easy to ignore them, but I still notice.”

     “That’s awful, but not surprising. People can be very rude to people who don’t fit their narrow worldview.”

     “I know that all too well,” she said, parking.

     “A bowling alley?” asked Dr. Reid skeptically.

     “They make a good burger. And it’s noisy.” A pause. “And they have air hockey. Will you play air hockey with me if we have the time?”

     “Sure,” he said, smiling.

     “Shall we, Dr. Reid?”

     “Call me Spencer.”

*****

     Lunch was a bacon cheeseburger for Mina and a grilled cheese with tomato for Spencer, both with the bowling alley’s usual ton-of-fries. She mused that a stereotypical first date would have their orders be just the opposite, but Mina ate unselfconsciously, enjoying the nearly-too-filling burger and Spencer seemed happy that he wasn’t being judged for getting a much lighter meal than the short 'woman' across from him. (Well, no judgment from anyone at their table. They both seemed to be making a point of not looking at the other people in the dining area, not that there were that many anyway.) Mina genuinely enjoyed their small talk about _Star Trek_ and science and society (and goodness, it was refreshing to talk about such things without being told that she “thought too much!”) as they ate their main dishes and Spencer seemed to too. Also.

     “So,” Mina said, picking at her french fries, “do you need to take notes or record this?”

     “I'll use my phone to record, is that all right?”

     “Go for it.”

     Spencer opened an app that looked completely unfamiliar to Mina, but she recognized the red record button easily enough. “So, what is it that you wanted to talk about that couldn’t be discussed at the station?”

     “Do you know when Alicia died? It’s relevant.”

     “She died six days ago.”

     “I figured as much. Those bruises came from a caning. I was there.”

     “And you _let it happen?_ ” Spencer asked, aghast.

     “Alicia and I are both members of the BDSM community. We went to play parties in Orlando. There’s a full-time BDSM club called The Woodshed which is where we’d go most of the time, and there are other places that would rent a venue for private events, or people would host smaller events in their homes. That particular caning happened at The Woodshed, and it was done by a dom who had done a caning demo just a few months ago. Dude’s an expert, and consent is a huge deal in the life anyway. If she had used her safeword, he’d have stopped. And if he hadn’t, a DM--a Dungeon Monitor--would have made him stop. We’re both masochists, and zie--Alicia was non-binary, by the way, as am I, though I use feminine pronouns because I don’t mind them and I’m not out at work, and why am I telling you that part anway? Never mind--zie was hardcore. Zie liked the cane and the paddle with holes in it and I was more whips and floggers. Zie didn’t like either of those. YMMV.”

     “YMMV?”

     “Your Mileage May Vary. It’s the difference between Good Pain and Bad Pain. Good Pain gives you an endorphin rush. Bad Pain just hurts.”

     “And you think that the unsub is targeting members of the BDSM community? Masochists in particular?”

     “It’s possible. When I was gathering the files from the past few years, I noticed that a lot of the victims had welts on their backs, like from a whip. Also, ‘unsub?’”

     “Unsub means Unknown Subject. The suspect. We don’t want to mythologize them by giving them nicknames.”

     “Makes sense.”

     “So why would our unsub go after people who _enjoy_ being beaten?”

     “I dunno. Maybe he thought that all masochists enjoyed all kinds of pain. Maybe he read that trash trainwreck _Fifty Shades of Grey_ and thought that that steaming pile of _Twilight_ fanfiction with the serial number filed off was something other than abuse.”

     Spencer’s eyes widened. “Or he’s using the wounds from the consensual beatings to cover his real MO.” He stood quickly, almost tipping his chair backward, and grabbed his satchel. “We have to get back. This changes the whole profile.”

     “So much for air hockey.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mina and Spencer's "date" ends and they go back to their respective duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't manage weekly this time, but Chapter 3 is already written so I'll have that for next Saturday, and that should give me time to write more so I can post more regularly. I've been writing at work, but snowbird season is starting and I'm getting busier (which is good--overtime will become an option next month!), but for some reason I write best when I'm at school or work. (I wrote all my Jonny Quest fics in high school, mostly during class.)
> 
> Anyhow, this continues directly after the events of Chapter One. This story is going to have a lot of conversation, explanation and thought processes, because I am neurotic, and Mina is my avatar, and therefore Mina is neurotic and an overthinker. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy. Comments and constructive criticism are love. <3
> 
> P.S. When I first started daydreaming this, I hadn't put much thought into the plot, figuring I could just skip around because why not? And then I started writing it out. If anyone out there is good at writing case-fic, please drop me a line 'cause I'd love to pick your brain.

     "There's not gonna be any way to cover up my input in this case, is there?"

     The drive back to the police department had been silent for the first few minutes, but Mina couldn't help worrying about her damned _reputation_ (such as it was) when there was a serial killer on the loose targeting masochists.

     "I'll do my best, but I can't make you any promises," replied Spencer.

     "Shit. _Shit!_ " She gripped the sterring wheel so hard that her already pale knuckles turned white. She couldn't help imagining the response from her co-workers. And with family at the PD, it'd get back to the rest of the family--

     She could feel her breathing speeding up and her blood running cold. _I can't do this, I can't do this, it's too late--_

     "Are you all right?" asked Spencer, worried.

     "No," she said, pulling over in the grass just outside the PD. She took several deep breaths, but that caused hyperventilation and dizziness.

     "Mina! Breathe with me." He held eye contact with her and made an obvious show of breathing in deeply, holding the breath for a few seconds, and releasing it slowly. He did this several times until Mina had her breathing under control. It was with shaking hands that she reached for the decorated cube that hung from a silver chain around her neck. Flipping the top open, she emptied a small pill onto the palm of her hand.

     "Xanax?" Spencer deduced.

     "The generic, but yeah," Mina gave a shaky laugh. "That obvious?"

     "Well, you just fought off a panic attack and I know what alprazolam looks like."

     "There's a bottle of water in the glove box..thanks." She took a slightly disgusted large swig of the warm water and popped the pill in her mouth, then swallwed hard. It got caught in the back of her throat and gagged her. She added more water and swallowed again and this time the medicine went down. "Ugh. I hate pills. I use applesauce at home. So did you memorize a pill book or have you taken it and just remember?"

     "I, ah, I have a close relative who's a paranoid schizophrenic. She's taken it, among other things. And that dosage dose come in orally disintegrating tablet form."

     "I'll ask my theapist" She looked at her watch. "Fuck, now we're late. Well, I'm late anyway."

     "Can't you call in after something like that? You should go home and relax."

     "Hell no. To do that I'd have to tell them that I had a panic attack, and if I refused to tell them why they'd be suspicious of you. Much as I'd like to punk out and flee wile you play that recording in the conference room, your--unsub--killed my best friend and if I can help you catch this asshat, it'll be worth never living it down."

     Mina parked and walked toward the main building. "I've got a pile of filing on my desk but if you guys need further help, just ask. And damn well let me know when you catch this guy! I wanna be there for the perp walk."

     "That's impressive. Most people in your situation would be out for blood."

     "I have a strong aversion to bad-pain violence. Besides, the fear and boredom of _decades_ on death row is a way worse punishment than a single beating, or even a single bullet."

     "Fair enough. Well. Feel free to stop by if you have a moment, but if we need you we'll call you."

     "Later. Maybe we can still play air hockey before you go." But Spencer's long legs had already taken her out of inside-voice hearing distance.

*****

     The next couple of hours absolutely _sucked_. The Xanax, while it had helped calm her down, had also made her drowsy, and it was too late to have any caffeine if she wanted a good night's sleep. Add to that the stress of wondering how the officers had reacted to the idea of a serial killer attacking members of the BDSM community, specifically the ones who enjoyed pain? She knew from transcribing interviews that there were a few throwbacks who still believed that there was such a thing as "asking for it." She was able to go through the motions of doing her job, most of Mina's mind dwelt on Alica's lat moments (hours?) and the hunt to find her killer. To her sshame, the bulk of her worries centered around the recording of her discussion with Spencer and hoping that only his Fed co-workers had heard it and that only information relevant to the case had been relayed to the police officers working the case. Even if that were the case, and she had no frame of reference as to how likely that would be, it would still be pretty obvious that she ha dprovided the information since Spencer had rushed in with what was likely a break in the case right after their "date."

     _I told him I'm non-binary_ , she fretted. _And my preferences in the dungeon. What the_ fuck _was I thinking? That fucker is just too easy to talk to._

     Her Xanax was starting to wear off by the time her last break of the day rolled around. Mina grabbed her purse and let her supervisor know that she was taking her last break and hurried to the conference room. As worried as she was about how her co-workers would react, she knew she'd have to face them eventually, and better sooner than later.

     That didn't stop her from feeling jittery as hell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More conversation and character development. (When I said slow-burn, I wasn't kidding, y'all.)
> 
> Warning for allusion to self-harm towards the end of this chapter. It'll be brought up again in the next chapter.
> 
>  **Edit, 2017-10-08:** I altered Mina's conversation with Spencer in the captain's office to hint at this story becoming a _Numb3rs_ crossover. Because FBI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late. I really was trying for a chapter per week, doing most of the writing at work on Saturdays, but the two Saturdays before yesterday were spent listening to the awesome StarTalk podcast and reading awesome CM fic written by others. Have a longer chapter as an apology.
> 
> NB: Publix is a grocery chain that started in Lakeland, FL and has expanded all over Florida and up into the Southeast.

     There was more information on the catch-a-serial-killer wall, including a printed picture of the front of The Woodshed. Spencer was drawing a circle on a map using a compass, and Mina walked up to him and waited for him to finish.

     "How are you feeling?" Spencer asked, setting pen and compass on the table.

     "Selfishly nervous. And hoping you're closer to catching Alicia's killer."

     "It's not selfish to worry about how revealing very private information is going to affect your reputation or your work environment."

     "Yeah, but Alicia is dead. She's gone, and she's not coming back, and I just can't wrap my mind around it. And to not know how she died, what the unsub did to her, I'm obsessing over it, but not as much as much as I have wondering how I'll be treated on Monday or even by the end of today."

     "Which sent you spiraling into wondering about your character, and then berating yourself for being selfish again?"

     "Did you memorize the DSM or have you been there?"

     "Both, though I have BAs in psychology and sociology."

     "And a doctorate in something, given your title."

     "Three, actually: mathematics, chemistry and engineering."

     "And you look about my age, give or take. That's damn impressive. Though I suppose having a photographic memory would cut down and make it possible to accelerate--"

     "You showin' off for your girlfriend, pretty boy?" interrupted Agent Morgan. Mina raised her eyebrows at the nickname, but said nothing.

     "No, and it wasn't a real date anyway," Spencer grumbled.

     "I came to ask how the case was progressing but then i got sidetracked by a whiny worry spiral and then Spencer got me sidetracked from that." Mina grimaced at him. _Fuck, I'm so scatterbrained._ Agent Morgan raised _an_ eyebrow at her use of his friend's first name. _Ugh, show-off._

     "Well it's good you're here, your insights broke the case wide open. Spencer remembered a chemical that wouldn't show up in a standard postmortem tox-screen so we've got the ME looking for it now. If she finds it in your friend, we'll have to exhume the other bodies," Agent Morgan informed her.

     "My goodness," said Mina. "What about any victims that were cremated? Will those deaths not be pinned on the unsub?"

     "Probably not, unless we can find something else that leads directly to him."

     "Or we get a confession," added Agent Morgan.

     "Okay, thanks," Mina said. "I have to get back to work, but I'll stop by when I'm done if y'all are still here. If you wind up going into The Woodshed, I can help y'all not stick out like a sore thumb."

     "It looks like we're going to take you up on that," said Agent Fedley from nearly directly behind her.

     _"Gah!"_ Mina squawked, jumping and turning to him. "WTF, mate?"

     "I'm sorry to have startled you, but five of the eight victims that we can confirm were at the Woodshed had premortem welts and bruises--they happened before death--" (Mina knew this but just nodded) "--consistent with some rather brutal S&M beatings."

     "I brought you a dozen files and there were three on the wall already. Should I leave them here just in case or take them back with me?"

     "Leave them here for now."

     "Alrighty. So, was there any indication that the victims from this unsub were beaten once by their doms and then beaten by someone else, someone unskilled maybe?"

     "How much skill does it take to just whale on somebody?" asked a voice she'd been dreading hearing since the bowling alley. Garrett.

     Mina sighed. _Here it goes._ "It takes practice to build the skill to only cause good pain," she explained. I was wondering if there were any newer marks that showed less skill or control."

     "Was there?" Garrett asked the agents.

     "No. In each case it appears there was one set of wounds using one to three tools. The wounds in each case were superficial, meant to cause pain but not to do any real damage."

     "Okay, so my original thought that he was beating people who'd just gotten beaten thinking that the ME wouldn't be able to tell the wounds apart was totally off," Mina mused.

     "And what about you, Kinky Boots?" asked Garrett. "We've been trying to find this guy for weeks, since we realized that several of our cold cases were connected, and what, you coudn't just say something? Or even call in an anonymous tip?"

     "First of all, that was inappropriate even for you. Second...of all, I didn't see the connection until I saw Alicia's body. I try _not_ to look at the gory crime scene photos. And I'm not a detective any-damn-way!"

     "That's fair," said Agent Fedley to Mina, but he was directing a hard look at Sgt. Garrett. _Dude has a lethal glare_ , Mina thought. When he turned to Mina, he said, "No one is blaming you for not noticing something that it wasn't your job to notice."

     "Thank you, Agent..." _Finally I can get his name!_

     "Hotchner," the man said, and held out his hand to shake. "Thank you for speaking up about what you suspected. Like Agent Morgan said, your insight gave us a break in the case and our technical analyst is working on connecting more of the victims to The Woodshed."

     "So, what's your plan?"

     "Fairly straightforward right now. The unsub prefers people who've been beaten badly, so we'll set up our own scene and hope he takes the bait. In the meantime we'll have plainclothes monitoring all the entrances and exits," said Agent Hotchner.

     "Do you have someone who'd enjoy such a scene? That's gonna be either impossible to fake or close to it," said Mina.

     "I have a high pain tolerance," said Agent Morgan blandly.

     _Hot diggity damn._ "No..." Mina murmured. _Much as I'd love to see you in bondage gear--_ "No..." _Can you get up and keep--_

     " _What?_ " Agent Morgan looked irritated now.

     "I'm trying to find a work-appropriate way of asking a very work- _inappropriate_ question."

     "Just say it."

     "Oh-kay. The vas majority of cis men who are masochists are pretty damned obvious about their appreciation of the beating they're receiving. As in, they get hard and stay hard during. Some even get off. Is that something you think you can manage?" Her face was bright red.

     "Um..." Agent ran a hand over his not-quite-bald head. "That I don't know."

     "That's not a bad thing. If you're not a masochist, all pain is bad pain. Masochists, well, we differentiate. Getting a beaten in a way I don't enjoy is--obviously--not enjoyable."

     "How do you differentiate?" asked Spencer.

     "Some types of pain release a ton of endorphins and stuff and leaves me all floaty and happy. Others just hurt."

     Spencer asked, "So, given the, ah, physical evidence issue, do you think a woman would be better at faking enjoyment?" Mina, the two female agents, and two female officers who'd been listening laughed loudly. The men in the room looked chagrined, except for Spencer himself who just looked embarrassed.

     "You're _adorkable!_ " Mina exclaimed, clasping her hands together under her chin, grateful for the moment of levity. "And yes, a woman would have an easier time hiding her lack of enjoyment." She took a quick look at Agent Morgan and sighed quietly. _Oh, well._

     "Well, I was gonna be the one holding the whip, but I suppose we could switch places," said the dark-haired female agent. _Why can't people just introduce themselves?_ Mina thought, because otherwise her brain would short out at the thought of this gorgeous woman with such a powerful presence being on either end of a whip.

     "Uh-uh," said Agent Morgan, hands palm-up in a 'stop' gesture. "I'm not hitting a woman, not even for a case." A pause. "Unless she's an unsub. And even then only if she hits me first."

     "I won't make you," said Agent Hotchner, putting a hand on Agent Morgan's shoulder.

     "Thanks, Hotch. I'd just rather take that kind of beating than deliver it. And I know I can take it, I know I could, but I can't fake enjoying it the way Ms. Abbot described."

     "Hey," said Mina. "That's not a flaw. You're not the weirdo here, I am. Now I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you're a fitness buff?"

     Agent Morgan looked down at his body for a moment, flexing his arms a bit. "Good guess."

     "Go for a run every morning?"

     "Just about."

     "And it feels good?"

     "Yeah."

     "How far do you run each morning?"

     "About six miles. Longer on off days."

     "Now that sounds like bad pain to me!"

     "All right, all right, point taken."

     "So explain this 'good pain' to me. So if I slap you on the ass, that gets you off?" asked Detective Rodriguez, a short, stocky man with a thick Brooklyn accent. _Must have stepped in at the end of the conversation_ , Mina mused.

     "You in particular? I'd yell at you and then report you for sexual harassment. In general, well, that's none of your business. It varies by individual and I've already explained it twice today. You've got a smartphone. Just Google it."

     "I could do it," said the blonde agent ( _gotta get her name too; is it rude to interrupt to ask?_ ).

     "Really?" asked the dark-haired lady ( _fuck it, she's Agent Badass_ ). "Giving or receiving?"

     "Either," Agent Blondie ( _I'll think of something better later_ ) said. "It has to be done, we should just get it over with."

     Mina drifted towards spencer so she could ask about other details (and ask him the names of the rest of his team, how awkward!), but she was cornered by her Aunt Vera and cousin Jason (Det. Sgt. Hawthorne and Det. Hawthorne, respectively).

     "What were you thinking?" her aunt hissed angrily. "People are asking if we knew!"

     "They're asking if we're freaks too," added Jason. "You're embarrassing the whole family!"

     "If helping the cops and FBI catch a serial killer constitutes embarrassing the family, maybe y'all should re-evaluate what you consider shameful," Mina countered. Her nose and eyes started to tingle, her body's warning of impending tears. _Hold onto the anger, no tears, hold onto the anger!_

     "Don't worry, we know you guys aren't godless commie whatever-she-is," said Rodriguez, inviting himself into the conversation. "If her stepdad couldn't get through to her, and him being a man of God, why would us poor shmucks be able to turn her off the path to Hell?"

     "If Heaven is full of people like you and Bill, I think I'd prefer Hell," Mina muttered, afraid that her normal inside voice would crack. She'd _known_ that eventually someone would equate her unfortunately-well-known atheism, and at the time she figured it was worth it to bring Alicia's killer to justice, and she still did...mostly...but by His Noodly Appendage, did this suck.

     Mina blinked several times, hoping it wasn't obvious (or at least not too obvious) that she was fighting back tears.

     "Are you listening to me?" the voice of her aunt broke into her thoughts.

     "Yes, Aunt Vera?" she replied with exaggerated patience.

     "I was _saying_ that it was just like an atheist to say that! You don't know a damned thing about putting other before yourself! There are _no atheists in foxholes!_ "

     "Even if that were true, ma'am, it would say more about foxholes than it does about atheists," said Spencer from directly behind the woman, scaring the bejesus (heh) out of her. "Ms. Abbot, I'd like your input on wardrobe for the undercover mission."

     "Why, Agent Doctor Reid, I'd be happy to!" Mina said, putting on a much bigger smile than she felt. She nodded subtly at Spencer's arm and the man crooked his elbow. Loosely arm in arm, Spencer led them out of the room entirely.

     "Is there someplace quiet we can go?" he asked.

     "Yeah, this way," she replied, and led them into the recently vacated office of a police captain who'd retired only a month ago.

     "Are you all right?" "Thank you, thank you, thank you." They spoke over each other. They both paused.

     "That was about as bad as I expected," Mina said, removing her glasses and wiping away the few tears she hadn't been able to hold back.

     "I told Hotch you needed a moment, so take your time, let it out. I won't judge you."

     "'Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and the world laughs harder.'"

     "The saying goes, 'Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone.'"

     "I read my version on FontGarden years ago, and it stuck with me 'cause that's been my experience. Besides, if I give in now I'll be all red and blotchy and wind up with a near-migraine that can only be fixed with a good night's sleep, which is really difficult to come by when you've got a near-migraine."

     "I understand."

     "What do you understand?"

     "Being ostracized for real or perceived weirdness? People assuming you're showing off when you use a big word when really it's just the first word that came to mind? Having your gender and/or sexuality called into question because the way you act or dress doesn't match their idea of how a person of your assigned gender should act or dress?"

     "Okay, you're either telepathic or you're projecting." Mina smiled.

     "Definitely the latter. I've only know you a short time, but you seem like a kindred spirit."

     "Yeah. No wonder you're so easy to talk to."

     "You think so?"

     "Yeah. It's nice to be able to talk to another neurodivergent person. And you mentioned gender and sexuality--are you any type of queer?"

     "I default to cisgendered male, mostly because it never occurs to me to question my gender until somebody else does. And I've identified as demisexual since I learned the word."

     "If you identify as cis male and you're comfortable with that label, then fuckin' be a cis male. And if you're not, well, nobody can decide that but you. I think I might be demi myself, but I think gray-asexual fits me better."

     "You could be both."

     Mina shrugged. "Maybe. Does gender factor into who you get attached to?"

     "It hasn't yet. I've been in love three times in my life. The first was a girl I went to high school with, who was six years older than me and taken. The second was the older brother of a friend that I lived with for a little while when I was at CalSci, and another man more recently. Both of the men are straight."

     "Are you sure of that?"

     "I've only ever seen them with women, and the way the second one talks seems to assume that cisgendered and heterosexual are the default for everyone, though when he learns otherwise he doesn't think less of them."

     "So that's, like, 98% sure. Is he on your team? I can finagle a way to ask him straight up. Um, no pun intended."

     Spencer laughed. "And here I thought you were interested in me."

     "I am, but I'm aware that I get infatuated easily and you're going to be leaving as soon as y'all catch the bad guy--"

     "As soon as _we_ catch the bad guy."

     "Thanks, but I'd rather not be credited in any media. Too many people know about the BDSM stuff as it is, and while I'm not ashamed, negative attention makes me want to just curl up in a corner and die. Better to slow down the rumor mill rather than speed it up. And the other thing is that I'm polyamorous. As long as all partners give informed consent, I'm fine with sharing and/or being shared." Mina sighed. "Now if only I could get two or more interesting and kind people to take me up on it."

     "If I had the time, I'd try. I already like you as a friend."

     "If I had the money, I'd move to Quantico. _Buuuut_ my get-the-hell-out-of-Titusville fund as it stands won't pay the first and last months' rent on an apartment in Orlando. Also I'm not a creepy stalker. I promise."

     "I believe you."

     "I really have to get back to my actual job, but I'd like to hang out with you some more. I've got beef and veggie stew in the crock-pot at my apartment, you could bring the whole team. And we could talk about the 'mission' without the commentary from my distinguished co-workers."

     "That sounds great. I'll ask them."

     "Sounds like a plan. And could I ask you a favor?"

     "You can ask."

     "Smart man." She took her car keys out of her purse and took one key on a ring off the carabiner. This key she handed to Spencer. Then she dug into her purse again, this time pulling out a purple-and-white business card. As she wrote her address on it, she continued, "I need you to go through my apartment and pull all the sharp pointy things. Razors in the bathroom, steak knives in what passes for the kitchen, and two X-ACTO knives with my scrapbooking stuff in the bedroom."

     "Mina..." Spencer's hazel eyes were wide with sympathy.

     "The only 'local' person I could call is my domme, but she lives in Rockledge and she has three kids and finding a babysitter on such short notice is a nightmare according to her and--"

     "It's all right. I'll help you with this. How long were you a cutter?"

     "That's a story that I don't mind telling, but not now. I'll stop at Publix and get some fresh bread in case I'm underestimating how much seven adults can eat. And maybe wine? I don't know much about wine. Do you?"

     "Rossi's a wine snob. I'll ask him to pick one on our way."

     "Thanks. And please don't say anything to my co-workers."

     "Of course not!"

     "I trust you." Mina looked tapped her Fitbit to check the time. "Wow, I have gotten so fucking little done today. At least the day's almost over."

     "You broken open a serial murder case, that's far from 'fucking little," replied Spencer incredulously.

     "Aww, you're cute when you cuss. But as far as my regular work goes, y'know, the stuff I interviewed for? Not so much."

     "I think they'll forgive you, considering the circumstances."

     "I dunno." She'd given him the key, she'd given him the business card with her address and phone number written on the back...she had no excuse to stay here with Spencer, no matter how much she wnated to. Not to mention that Spencer had his own, much more important, work to do. But first:

     "May I hug you?" Mina asked.

     "Um, sure, I guess." Spencer looked uncomfortable.

     Mina looked at him sadly. "Touch-averse or germophobe?"

     Spencer winced. "Both."

     "Oh shit, and earlier I...I'm so sorry, Spencer."

     "I could have said something, but you needed the backup."

     "You could have said something just now. I _always_ take 'no' for an answer. I'm touch-averse myself with pretty much everyone but a very small group of people and you just--you don't _owe_ anybody touch. Not even family or friends or, y'know, brand new acquaintances and I'm rambling again. I'll see you this evening. And thank you."

     "You're very welcome. It's a brave thing to ask for help like that, especially from a near stranger."

     "Normally I'm afraid of men in general, but I don't know if it's the tall cute and dweeby look or the way you spoke or what, but my lizard brain isn't afraid of you. And then we talked about _Star Trek_ and you totally knew your stuff, and you were so enthusiastic, and all the stuff we talked about since we came in here, I just know you're good people. Trustworthy."

     "Thank you," said Spencer, blushing at the praise. "But really. I know how hard it is to ask for help with something...like that."

     "Well, feel free to keep my number after your case is over. You can call or text me any time. The only time I don't have my phone within arm's reach is during a scene."

     "You take it in the shower?"

     _Bring it, Agent Doctor Nitpicker._ "Plastic baggie on the bathroom counter, ringer on loud."

     "Touché."

     Mina grinned. "See you soon."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a misunderstanding.

     There was only just over an hour left in her work day, and Mina did her best to catch up to where she would have been had this day not been flipped on its head. At least the intense concentration and fast pace made the time pass fairly quickly.

*****

     Mina went to Publix as soon as she clocked out. She picked two baguettes from the bakery and decided tow ander around until she felt like she'd given Spencer (and his co-workers?) time to remove all the blades from her apartment. She hadn't been wandering long when she received a text message:

     _It's safe to come home now. -Spencer_

     _Thanks. On my way now._ , she replied, and saved Spencer's number to her contacts as she made her way to the express lane.

*****

_Interlude: Spencer_

>      Spencer felt guilty for telling his co-workers about Mina's request, but there was no way to frame going to a person's home without them present for the express purpose of removing only blades that could easily break the skin as anything other than what it was.
> 
>      "OCD much?" Morgan commented, seeing the labels on every shelf and drawer, the sticky notes on walls and cabinets, the way the hundreds of books were painstakingly organized.
> 
>      "More like ADD," Prentiss replied from the kitchen. "All these notes are reminders."
> 
>      "'Take your meds.' 'Check email at the eights.' 'Get more flat-rate boxes from the post office,'" read Rossi.
> 
>      "ADD, depression and anxiety," said Spencer from the bathroom, but e didn't itemize the items in her medicine cabinet that had led to those deductions. He gathered the dispozable razors and went to the living room where Rossi was now waiting with kitchen knives and Hotch waited with the two X-ACTO knives.
> 
>      "These were all I found in her art room. She doesn't have a bed in her one bedroom," Hotch said.
> 
>      Spencer peeked into the room in question. More books, all arts and crafts related. Stacked bins of yarn. A bookcase identical to the ones in the living room, only filled with scrapbooking and other papercrafting supplies. A six-foot folding table covered in yarn and squares made from the same yarn, and pushed almost to the wall, a laptop computer. A set of modular shelves held finished projects: beanie hats, scarves, blankets in various sizes in simple but neat patterns. Here was JJ, unfolding them to get a better look, refolding, and moving on to the next one.
> 
>      Rossi came in and ran a hand over the blanket that JJ had just finished refolding. "This is excellent workmanship," he murmured.
> 
>      "You knit?" asked JJ incredulously.
> 
>      "This is crochet," Rossi corrected.
> 
>      Morgan raised an eyebrow at him from the doorway.
> 
>      "What? My first wife was crafty. I learned early on _not_ to mix up knitting and crochet."
> 
>      "So when's you girlfriend coming home, pretty boy? That stew smells delicious," said Morgan.
> 
>      "I just sent her a text, and she's not my girlfriend." Spencer sighed. It hurt every time Morgan tried to set him up, but it hurt a little less with each passing year.
> 
>      "She could be," Morgan teased.
> 
>      "I know," Spencer said more harshly than he'd intended. "It doesn't mater. We're leaving as soon as this case is over." He put Morgan out of his mind as best he could and turned to JJ and Rossi, producing the business card Mina had given him. "If you like the blankets, you can buy them from er website. These projects are her second job."
> 
>      "I'll buy one," said Prentiss from behind Morgan.
> 
>      "You haven't even seen them," said Rossi.
> 
>      "I saw her open checkbook register," Prentiss replied. "I bet that stew was meant to be at least a week of dinners."
> 
>      "If she's that bad off, why invite us all and not just Reid?" wondered Morgan.
> 
>      "She doesn't want to be too forward, or to pressure me. And she's lonely. She wouldn't have gotten attached so quickly otherwise."
> 
>      "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, Spence," said JJ.
> 
>      "I think you're giving me too much credit," Spencer muttered.

  
*****

     Mina arrived home to a black SUV in her parking spot and an unlocked front door. She knocked anyway and stood to the side of the door frame. The chances of the people in her apartment being any but the feds she'd invited approached zero, but a person--especially an AFAB person--could never be too careful.

     "Ms. Abbot?" asked a voice it took a moment to recognize as belonging to Agent Hotchner. He looked at her quizzically.

     "If it wasn't y'all in there I'd have run next door and called the police."

     "Good. Your life and safety are important."

     "Because I'm helping with your case?"

     "Because you're a person." He was a holding a bundled-up towel of hers, presumably with all her sharp-and-pointies in it, and he went and locked it in the SUV without another word.

     Once inside, she found her living room empty and her work room full.

     "I like this one," siad a feminine voice she didn't recognize--Agent Blondie? _Agent Blondie McCompetence? Agent Competence? Eh, later._ "It'd go great with my living room decor and Henry would like the colors."

     "For three hundred dollars?" That was Agent Morgan, she thought.

     "Well, it did take about twenty-one hours to make," Mina said.

     "Okay, fair enough," the man conceded.

     "I brought baguettes," Mina said. "Who's hungry?"

     "I sure am. Your crockpot has been teasing me since we got here."

     Mina raised her eyebrows. "He always has had good taste, my crockpot." Agent Morgan sputtered and the others laughed as they followed her to he kitchen.

     Mina didn't have a kitchen table--the little nook by the kitchen was stacked higher than Mina's head with boxes and all manner of stuff, and more modular shelving held three laundry baskets--two full of clean clothes, one full of dirty clothes--so they all took their meals to the large coffee table in the living room, arranging themselves on the sofa, loveseat or floor as there was room.

     The first several minutes of dinner were quiet save for the noises of eating and the occasional "this is good" and "thank you."

     "How long would this have lasted you?" asked Sharp Dressed Man.

     "About a week, week and a half, depending on whether I had it for one or two meals a day. I could've added rice instead of potatoes and stretched it to two weeks, but I was craving potatoes. Mm, I should've gotten bread to begin with. Or not, bakery bread has no preservatives so it expires in like three days."

     "So what're you going to do now?" Sharp Dressed Man followed up.

     "I've got backup food. Ramen, canned ravioli, frozen pizza. I won't go hungry. It's really rare that I have company, though. I don't get to share like this much at all." She stared down at her food and took a large bite of soup-saturated bread before she made herself sound any _more_ pathetic.

     "That makes this old Italian very sad."

     "So when do you graduate?" Agent Blondie asked.

     "I beg your pardon?" asked Mina.

     "Ramen and canned ravioli? That's college student food."

     "The universe is my university. There's no graduating, you just keep studying."

     "So, not in college then?"

     "No. I've done a lot of _The Great Courses_ and watched a lot of documentaries, but my highest form of _formal_ education is high school, Agent..."

     "I'm so sorry! Here I am eating your food and I didn't introduce myself here or at the station. Jennifer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ."

     "Should I call you JJ?" _Don't want to assume._

     "If you like."

     "Okay," Mina said, face lighting up. Before she forgot, she looked up at Sharp Dressed Man: "And your name, sir?"

     "David Rossi," he said. And, to her relief, she added, "You can call me Dave or Agent Rossi, whichever you prefer."

     "Thanks, Dave." Mina smiled brightly at him. Turning to the last unknown, she asked, "ma'am?"

     "Emily Prentiss. And Emily is fine."

     "Awesome, that's everybody."

     "I'm sorry we didn't introduce ourselves earlier, Ms. Abbot," said Agent Hotchner. "Especially since since you let invited us into your home and fed us."

     "No worries, and you can all call me Mina if you like. I just have a thing about knowing how to address people. And I'm sure I'd have extended the invitation without the ulterior motive." _This room is too small to share with an elephant._

     "None of us minded at all," said JJ, looking unaccountably sad. "It sure beats the alternative."

     "The ah, the lifestyle acually helped the most with that. For me, the cutting didn't feel like self-harm. It was more like a drug that was really cheap and easy to come by, and doesn't show up on a drug test. But it really is maladaptive, and once I was working at the PD and having health insurance and able to talk to a therapist, she convinced me of that. But then I was left without a pressure release valve for my crappy life which is made worse by my wonky brain chemistry. That's when I found the kink community.

     "Alicia would go with me, and we'd spot each other while we negotiated with doms and participated in scenes, and it was _better_. The whip, the flogger, the violet wand, getting tattoos, all so much better than sitting in my bathroom with a razor blade. Originally I was in search of something else, but what kept me coming back was experimenting with pain. Maybe I was substituting one addiction with another, but this one was supervised and it's never landed me in the emergency room needing stitches. No one does real harm to themselves or others and if they do, the DMs--the dungeon monitors--they put a stop to it."

     "What makes it better?" asked JJ.

     "There's more of an endorphin rush. And it was my first experience of subspace. And that was just...joyful. Almost all the time it feels like my brain has too many tabs open, and when my domme takes me down, they all close. All that's left is good-pain endorphins and the desires of my domme. I'm safe, I'm cared for, I don't have to make any decisions. It's not something you can do yourself. I have a domme that I see once a month, including--" her throat tightened, thinking about cuddling with Alicia and her lady, her favorite form of after-care. "Including last week. I can't believ Alicia's just. Anyhow, my domme said she'd collar me once I was...clean, so to speak, for a year."

     "How long has it been?" asked JJ.

     "Just over ten months. It hasn't been easy between scenes, but having that incentive, having someone in my life who'll notice a new scar, makes all the difference."

     "That's a strange place to build a support network, but it's working for you, that's wonderful."

     "Well I've gotta give the therapy and medication their due too. But a lot of people have stuff like that. Different things for different people for different reasons, and all manner of SSC and RACK ways of getting otherwise dangerous ya-yas out."

     "SSC and RACK?" asked JJ.

     "Safe, Sane and Consensual," said Dave, surprising everyone. "Not familiar with the other one though."

     "You're familiar with the life?" Mina asked him.

     "I dabbled back in the day."

     "College?"

     "High school."

     Mina raised her eyebrows. "You started early."

     "Eh," Dave shrugged.

     "And RACK means Risk-Aware Consensual Kink," Mina said to JJ. Focusing once more on Dave, she asked, "Dom, sub or switch?"

     "Switch, but mostly dom. Why do you ask?"

     "Because I was going to volunteer for your mission. But I'd prefer someone who's held a whip before. And why not mention your prior experience at he PD earlier?" asked Mina.

     "Because I haven't been back to that world since before you were born."

     "Were you worried about the reactions from your co-workers like I was about mine?"

     "Maybe a little, but I'd like to think my team is more open-minded than that. No offense."

     "Oh, none taken, believe me. My aunt and cousin were there before Spencer Zorro'd in and rescued me, and I'm not even on speaking terms with my birth mother and her husband but I'd still rather they didn't find out, though that's a moot point now." She noticed her guests trading glances, probably profiling her based on her wording, but they didn't question her about it and for that she was grateful.

     JJ spoke up. "In your interview with Spence you said you weren't 'hardcore' like Alicia. Will a scene done to your preferences be violent enough to attract a sadist like the unsub?"

     "If whoever winds up wieldin the whip is willing to draw, sure. It'll look much worse than it is and it'll give us an excuse to go in early and set up."

     "Set up for what?" asked Agent Hotchner.

     "Besides cordoning off space for blood and impact play, I dunno, I'm a records clerk, not an FBI agent. I thought y'all might want to scout out the whole place...or whatever it is y'all do to prepare for this sort of thing."

     "We sent officers to do just that this evening, so hopefully there'll be no need for bloodshed, voluntary or otherwise."

     "I really don't mind. It'll get the bad guy's attention and--I'm sorry, this is hella TMI and y'all've surely had enough of that already--it's something I'd like to do, but my lady refuses. She can't stand the sight of blood and I think she considers it cutting by proxy anyway."

     "Isn't it?" asked Agent Hotchner. "We wouldn't want to jeopardize your recovery."

     "I don't think it would," Mina replied. "And my therapist agrees with me! A knife and a whip are very different sensations."

     "I don't like it," said Dave.

     "Neither do I," said Emily.

     "I'm clean. I give blood every eight weeks and I haven't had sex, gotten a tattoo or cut myself since the last time five weeks ago, and they've never called me with bad news, and I know how to sterilize a whip. It's generally a submissive's job to clean all the...that's now what y'all meant, is it?"

     "Well, that was part of it," said Dave. "I just don't like the though of delivering that severe of a beating."

     "Yeah," said Emily, "especially since you're not even an official part of the investigation."

     "This asshole killed my best friend and others in my community and he'll kill again if he's not stopped. I know I don't have to, but I want to."

     "Do you have a death wish?" asked Agent Morgan, and then he sent an apologetic glance in JJ's direction. Mina filed that away for later.

     "For once, no. And even if I did, I promised my youngest brother that he'd never find..." Mina choked back a sob, and JJ left through the sliding glass door to the tiny back yard. "I'm sorry," Mina called after her. No response.

     Agent morgan looked as awful as she felt. "It's not your fault," he said, and then he followed JJ outside.

     Mina turned to Spencer, who had been curiously quiet all evening, and asked, "Should I go out there and try to apologize? I didn't mean to but obviously I upset her. Or would it be better if I didn't mention it?"

     "Yes, it'd be best if you just _let things go_ ," said Spencer testily.

     "Did I miss something?" _Was it the suicide talk? Was it something else? What did I do?!_

     Spencer replied only an exasperated look that seemed to imply that she obviously had.

     "Could we discuss this out front?" Mina asked. She honestly had no idea what was wrong, but if she started to cry she wanted fewer people to see her weakness.

     "Sure."

     Once outside, Spencer turned sharply to face her, upset but not menacing. "Were you just planning to go through all my co-workers? We haven't known each other a day, you have no need to know!"

     Well _that_ was less than helpful. "What in the candy-coated fuck are you talking about?"

     Spencer scowled. "'He always has good taste, my crockpot,'" he quoted.

     Lightbulb! " _Oh._ Okay, I get it now. Spencer, I was just being a smartass. I would have said that to anyone who'd call an inanimate a tease. I matched genders because I do stuff like that whenever I can, trying to suss out homophobes."

     " _I already told you he doesn't judge people like that!_ "

     Mina felt a nearly physical sensation that she used to simply call _duh_ , but after she'd decided that that sounded too blonde, she called it Geting Hit By The Clue Bus.

     Even while stunned, Mina coined a new term: Double Decker Clue Bus.

     In the moments tha Mina was getting Hit By The Double Decker Clue Bus, Spencer was apparently having a 'Clue Bus' moment of his own.

     "You didn't know," Spencer said dully.

     "I can see how such a young fella wound up on an elite FBI profiling team," Mina said, sarcastically but without bite.

     "I'm so sorry, Mina. I should have known better."

     "I forgive you. If our positions were reversed, I'd have--well, I'd probably have embarrassed myself."

     "Didn't I just do that?"

     "I would have needed a Xanax to initiate a conversation like that."

     Spencer didn't make any obnoxious comments about anti-anxiety meds as a cructh, or growing the fuck up, or mentall illness bein all in her head (where else would it be, her ass?), and Mina appreciated that. What he did say was, "Well, thank you. Though I think you forgive too easily."

     Mina snorted. "Hardly! I hold grudges to the bitter end. I just learned very early to pick my battles, and this just isn't one."

     "I'll remember that."

     "Of course you will. Hey, would you like to stay over? I'll blow up the air mattress and we'll watch "Take Me Out to the Holosuite" and eat ice cream and talk about guys."

     "I'm not a girl, Mina."

     "Neither am I, not entirely."

     "Fair enough. You've made yourself a part of this investigation and it might not be appropriate, but if Hotch says it's okay, then sure."

     "Cool. Are we good?"

     "Yeah. We're good."

     "And you know what else?"

     Spencer sighed. "What?"

     "My crockpot's not the only fella with good taste."

     "Shut up."

     When they went back inside, JJ and Agent Morgan were back. Mina looked at JJ, who shook her head, _don't say anything_ , and Mina nodded, _I understand._ She was curious but it was none of her business and she put it out of her mind.

     "Are you sure, Dave?" Agent Hotchner was asking Dave.

     "Yeah, Aaron." Dave rubbed at his face. "I don't like this, but I can do it. I'll need a crash course, though. I haven't done this sort of thing in decades, and even then I never broke the skin."

     "Well, The Woodshed's open until three a.m. if you want to ask someone for a lesson, or...um...I have study materials you could look over," said Mina who was wondering, not for the first time, if she was overstepping.

     "Study materials, huh?" snarked Agent Morgan.

     "I'm twenty-six, fuck off," Mina said lightly.

     "Do you want o come with? Establish ourselves before tmorrow night?" asked Dave.

     Mina looked at Spencer, who said "it's all right" quietly, for her ears only. She was gratified that Spencer looked as disappointed as she felt.

     "Give me a few minutes, I need to ask my domme about this. I really should have called her sooner."

     "You need her permission?" Agent Morgan asked. "How old are you again?"

     "We have an agreement. Every healthy BDSM relationship begins with negotiations and has similar talks regularly. One of the things I agreed to was not to submit to another without her express permission. Today has been such a crazy day that that obligation just caught up with me."

     "Little bit scatterbrained?" asked Dave.

     "Yeah, just a little." She took her phone out of her pocket and retreated to her workroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling up some plot holes. 
> 
> (Hi! So...it's been over a year. Sorry about that. This summer hasn't had the down time that last summer had, and I had another fandom daydream going for awhile, but I'm back to this, but I'm going to be adding _Numb3rs_ characters and settings because I've gotten back into that show in a big way. The only changes before this chapter will be to a conversation between Mina and Spencer in Chapter Three.)
> 
> (This is the last of what I wrote last year; I've got an idea where I want this story to go but I'm not quite sure how to get there from here.)
> 
> Continues immediately after the events of the previous chapter.

     "What is it, little one?" asked Mary Ann Morita-Jones, scene name Anaïs.

     "I have bad news, my lady, and I also have a request."

     "Tell me the bad news first."

     "Yes, my lady." Mina choked on a sob. "Bubbles is dead. She was murdered by a serial killer who's been targeting masochists who do scenes at The Woodshed."

     "I haven't heard anything about this. How did you know?"

     "I know we don't talk about our day jobs but I kinda have to here. I'm a records clerk at the Titusville Police Department, and the bodies were dumped here in Titusville, two or three a year, one to two weeks apart, going back at least five years. They didn't even make the connection until today. Well, actually, _they_ didn't. I did. I was taking the cold case files to the room the FBI was set up in--"

     "If you just noticed, why was the FBI already there?"

     "One of our detectives who's on desk duty noticed a pattern in the three most recent victims before Bubbles--he'd only gone back two years--and noticed that they had heavy bruising and two had deep welts, in both cases they were only on the backs of the victims, and most of the damage was between the shoulders and the knees."

     "And that wasn't enough for him? Seems pretty obvious."

     "Yeah, to us with our background and continued partcipation in the kink world, but to a cranky vanilla homicide detective who just wants back on active duty? Not so much."

     "That's fair, but don't get flip with me, Krepta."

     "Apologies, my lady. It's not often I get to explain a thing without being interrupted, or interrupted much, or being shut down altogether. So that detecive finding those connections and Bubbles's body being found yesterday evening, the chief of police agreed that wehad a serial killer on our hands and called in a team of FBI profilers."

     "Okay, so where do you come in?"

     "This morning I was assigned to go back ten years into cold cases to find other cold cases with these parameters to see how far back the bad guy went. It took all morning but I found nine matches and three near matches and once I had it all gathered up I took it to the conference room the federales were camped out in, and then I promptly dropped everything everything when I saw--when I saw Bubbles's body in a crime scene photo on the bulletin board. It wasn't Bubbles. It was just zir body."

     "I'm so sorry, little one. Is there anything I can do?"

     "I almost called you from work today. It wasn't just Bubbles, though that was terrible enough. But it was zir body and the bruises from last Satuday and remembering, somewhat vaguely because my memory is shit already and I didn' _want_ to remember, but betwen zir and the cold cases, that's when I made the BDSM connection. And the feds were really cool about not wanting my co-workers to know about my extracurriculars, so they sent me to lunch with one of their own, tis fucking adorkable dweeby genius and I told him...well, not everything, but a lot. He was just really easy to talk to. Or he's a Jedi."

     "He's FBI, it's probably just training. So is he white?"

     "Yes, _he_ and yes, _white_."

     "What is it with you and white guys?"

     "Prolly because I'm white and AFAB, which means the odds are ever in my favor. It's not like I seek 'em out actively. Besides, he's demi and he's going back to DC as soon as this case is over."

     "You found a cute smart guy who listened, and you got infatuated in like a minute, and you're already bummed because he's gonna leave and not look back."

     "You never slack on the tough love, my lady."

     "I know you. You're pre-hurting. Stop. He's just a man, and men are trash."

     "Spoken like a dyed-in-the-wool lesbian, my lady." Mina was sure her lady could hear her smirking.

     "You know I'm right."

     "I'm going to defer to you out of habit, my lady," she non-answered.

     "Uh-huh. So what do you want to ask me?"

     "Well, I volunteered to help the FBI catch the bad guy. We were actually about to head out to the club and establish ourselves for tomorrow, then I realized I'd better ask for your permission first."

     "They don't want to use you as bait or so me dipshit like that, do they?"

     "Much as I'd like to say, 'no, ma'am, no dipshit,' that is the plan, but using me in the scene was my idea. It's easier to actually be a masochist and actually enjoy a scene than to be vanilla and try to enjoy a rather intense scene while in what by definition must be bad pain."

     "But you're not into scenes as intense as what Bubbles enjoys--enjoyed."

     "It'll look more intense if I let the dominant draw blood," Mina said nervously.

     "Mina, _no_."

     "Please, Annie! I need to do this, for Bubbles. And this is something I've wanted to do for awhile now."

     "You want an adventure and you think this might be your only chance."

     "Fair enough, but it's reason three of three, not one of one. I don't want to turn fifty-one on my first adventure and be one hundred eleven for the second."

     "Movie or TV?"

     "Literary, but I think there's a movie in the works."

     "Nerd."

     "And proud, my lady."

     "So who've you got in mind to do this to you?"

     "One of the agents has some dom experience, but it's a bit dated. He's none too thrilled with the idea of drawing blood or using a civilian as bate, but he's willing."

     "I'm not impressed."

     "Would you like to talk to him? I've got all six members of the FBI team at my place for dinner. Remember when I said I almost called you from work?"

     "You asked them to do what you usually call me for?"

     "I asked Dr. Fed Jedi. Dr. Fedi?"

     "That's bad, even for you."

     "I'm hilarious, my lady."

     "I'm going to punish you for that." Mina could clearly picture the wicked grin on her lady's face.

     "Yes, my lady." Mina was grinning but then she serious'd and went to the doorway to beckon Dave in. Dave got up and joined her.

     Mina beckoned him to the only chair in her work room, an adjustible office chair, and Mina sank to her knees beside him.

     "My lady's scene name is Anaïs. You may addres her as such," she said, then she put her phone on speaker, then set the phone on Dave's leg.

     "Ms. Anaïs? I'm Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. It's nice to meet you."

     "Agent Rossi," Anaïs said. "I understand you have some experience in our world, but my submissive made it sound like it's not very recent."

     "That's true. It's been many years. And I was more interested in the domination aspect than in pain."

     "But did you get off on your subs' enjoyment of pain?"

     "Yes. It was amazing."

     "The club doesn't allow sex, nor ejaculation."

     "Neither are going to be my priorities. Interesting that they allow blood play and not that."

     "They allow blood play only under controlled circumstances. The sooner you arange the scene, the better."

     "Does that mean I have permission to participate, my lady?" Mina asked.

     "Where are you sitting, little one?"

     "On the floor at Agent Rossi's feet."

     "Is he touching you?"

     "Yes, my lady. I rested my head on his leg and undid my braid. He took the hint and is stroking my hair, my lady."

     "That's rather bold for you, little one."

     "I'm perpetually touch-starved on a good day, and today's been a really bad day." Mina looked up at Dave, met his eyes, then jerked her head in the direction of the living room, where the rest of his team sat. "But not entirely bad."

     "Are you staring at Nerdy McWhiteguy?" Anaïs asked, and Mina had another clear mental image of her lady, this time rolling her eyes.

     'Nerdy McWhiteguy?' Dave mouthed at her. Mina shrugged and lightly rolled her eyes "I can't see him from here, and I'm kneeling anyway. My lady."

     "He's the one you want touching you," Dave said, his voice low and intimate. It sentas hiver down Mina's spine.

     "He's touch-averse, my lord. I respect that," Mina murmured, eyes closed. She missed Dave's eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

     "I heard that," said Anaïs.

     "I'm sorry, my lady!" Mina exclaimed, eyes now wide open. "I was just so...comfortable."

     "Agent Rossi?" asked Anaïs.

     "Yes, Ms. Anaïs?"

     "I'm giving my permssion for Krepta to submit to you, but only under three conditions."

     "Go on."

     "First, you were planning to establish yourselves at he club. I'll meet you there and see what you can do and tech you anything else that you need to know. Second, you'll use my tools."

     "Oh, good. We were going to rent a whip and flogger."

     "What about your kids?" asked Mina. "Doesn't your wife work overnights?"

     "Yeah, but she's off tonight so don't worry."

     "And the third condition?" Dave interrupted.

     "If any harm comes to her due to this... _misadventure_ , I will beat _you_ with bad pain."

     "Of course," said Dave. "I accept your terms." He looked down at Mina, who was looking up at him and smiling, one cheek against his knee. "What are you so happy about?"

     "I like it when people are protective of me, my lord. It's refreshing."

     "Do you have a support network outside of your therapist and your lady?"

     "There's my youngest brother, but he's Navy and often incommunicado, and my dad lives on the other coast and travels a lot for business."

     "Navy," David scoffed.

     "Army or Marines?" Mina asked.

     "Marines. Why didn't you say Air Force?"

     "Air Force don't give a shit." They shared a laugh. After a few moments, Anaïs spoke up.

     "Are you guys heading out soon?"

     Dave looked down at Mina, who nodded. "Yeah, just as soon as we get ready and square things away with the rest of the team."

     "See you there." Anaïs hung up.

     "I get Anaïs, for Anaïs Nin, but where does Krepta come from?" asked Dave.

     "It's a really obscure literary reference. I keep hoping someone will recognize it."

     "Okay, be mysterious. What do you need to do to get ready?"

     "I've got a corset and skirt to wear in, though it'll come off once your lesson starts. Is that gonna bother you?"

     "Not in the least." Dave grinned. Mina had several half-formed reactions to this, but voiced none of them.

     "Was the 'my lord' thing okay? I think I might have overstepped there."

     "Not at all. I'm glad you felt so comfortable with me."

     "I am, though to be totally honest I'm also tired and stressed. I might be a little more nervous if I didn't need to feel warm and safe so badly."

     "C'mere. Is a hug okay?"

     Mina nodded, removed her glasses, and let herself be wrapped in his arms.

     "How are _you_ feeling, Dave?" Mina asked after a long moment.

     "I can't complain," Dave said fondly, tightening his arms a little.

     "But sometimes you still do?" Her ear was pressed up against his heart, which she could both hear and feel.

     Dave chuckled. "Life's been good to me so far."

     "You got my classic rock reference!" Mina squealed, giving Dave a squeeze of his own. She pulled back before she could get too attached. After all, he'd be leaving soon too.


End file.
